Gemotions

The book lay open on the kitchen table, the cover art a smiling caricature of Arthur, holding a briefcase and wearing a comically large pair of glasses. Arthur slammed his fist down, the force rattling the fine china in the cupboard. He snatched the book up, his fingers clenching around the cheap paperback. "He called me what?" he muttered, scanning the page. The 'expert' in the book, some hack biographer named Bartholomew, had described his first love as a "spirited redhead". *Spirited?* He'd been utterly heartbroken when she left him for the pool boy!

He stalked into the living room, the book a weapon in his hand. He needed a stiff drink. The sheer audacity of this stranger, dissecting his life, embellishing events, and completely misinterpreting his motivations, was infuriating. The fire in the fireplace seemed to reflect the heat rising within him.